


aftermath (extras)

by fadinglove



Series: aftermath [2]
Category: DCU
Genre: M/M, Mentions of Rape, Panic Attacks, Villains, Writing Process, extra scenes, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-10-10 12:10:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10437471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fadinglove/pseuds/fadinglove
Summary: Discarded scenes from my previous story, Aftermath.(This won't make sense unless you read the fic.)





	1. VILLAIN scene- Lex Luthor

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys! after finishing "aftermath", I had a few scenes that I never used or finished. I didn't have anything else to do with them so I just decided to post them. enjoy!

_"Blood against blood." Voice of gravel, grinding gears, a rusty saw cutting metal in half. Grating to the ears. Stops time. Moves darkness. "Fear against fear." The thump of a leg, and then dragging. Thump, drag. Thump, drag._

_"Enough of your riddles. You promised me the destruction of the Superman." Clear, cool, clean-cut. Suit and tie. Polished shoes. A detached tone, of boredom, of distance, of faint disappointment, of disdain. "Instead, I just have a psychotic Batman. Obscure disagreement between him and Superman fail to unbalance the League, at all. They are too strong for that."_

_"Yes."_

_"Then what," Lex Luthor spreads a hand out on the table, fingers reaching, mouth curving downwards, "am I waiting for? The technology you promised me comes only in form of petty upgrades to my usual armor. The slow burn of the Justice League you said would happen has so far, only been a worthless attack on one member."_

_"Ah, the Detective," it smiles a cruel, horrible, malignant smile of teeth. "He was easy to break."_

_Luthor remains not in the least bit unnerved. "Tell me. Why shouldn't I cut ties with you right now? What more do you have to give?"_

_"The Detective, I broke him." The words roll through his mouth. "Now, he is being shaped again, and hardened. But in the wrong way."_

_The impatient tap of fingers._

_"Then, I will just whisper things into his ear. And the fear will override and his heart will fester, and just when they need him the most, he will belong to me." Wider smile. Wicked words. "And my army will come...."_

_"That's all good and well," The man states simply, "But it won't work. My business here is done." Stands up. He begins to leave-_

_"Why do you walk away? Do you not hear, with your own two ears, of my plan?" Leer. Curl of the lip. "The only way to get to Superman.. is Batman. It is plain as day. And I have succeeded in crippling Batman."_

_The billionaire is standing, but he is still. "Batman seems fine to me."_

_"Far from it. He will bend to my will, when the time comes."_


	2. HAL & BRUCE- Hal's POV

As soon as the realization dawns on Bruce, his eyes widen, lips part, and Hal is speechless because he has never, ever seen the Batman even remotely deterred. And when he stumbles back, an air of apparent shock punching him, Hal realizes everything that's happened.

Bruce flinches at his touch. He is wary of people touching him, and with Clark on the low, it's not hard to figure out. Clark must have touched him in ways he didn't want. Or maybe, someone who reminded him of Clark.

"Superman took them. The files. The video. He _can't_ watch it. He- You have to help me. Please. He can't- Oh God."

Hal didn't know it was possible for Batman to stutter, much less launch into a full-blown panic attack. But he's had experience with this. He remembers long nights in the dark gasping for breath uncontrollably, no one there to help him. But he's here now, to help Bruce. Even if the man is a dick.

First things first, the cowl has to come off. "Bruce!" He might be hearing him, he might not. "Bruce, I think you're having a panic attack, it's okay. Bruce, you with me?" And as gently as possible, Hal slides back that familiar mask.

It's _always_ surprising to see Bruce Wayne underneath. Nobody would guess that under such a mask lies such a pretty face. Grayish-blue eyes, adorned with thick black lashes, and high cheekbones. The structure of his face almost has an Asian cast to it, but he could never be sure.

But what's shocking is the blooming bursts of color on the side of his face. One large bruise. He can't stop, "Holy shit, your face!" from escaping, and it doesn't improve the situation.

"Don't come near me. Don't come closer," Bruce says, breathless. Hal removes his ring, so he's in civvies, and approaches.


	3. CLARK & BRUCE- Clark's POV

Superman flies back down at the harsh, heavy breathing resounding through his ears, and the thwack of the steady punches against the bag. They come at a frightful rate.

And when he lands, all is still. Clark swallows, trying not to look at the lines of Bruce's body, the heaving muscle of his shoulders, his lithe legs, dropped in a fighting stance. The way sweat runs in rivulets down the dips of him, the look of sweat mussing his jet-black hair.

Then he sees the blood. He can't move fast enough.

"Bruce, my God, you're bleeding," and he reaches out immediately, to quell the pain, but a force at work stops him. He thinks, inevitably, of the tape.

Then Bruce turns, and Kal-El tries not to get lost in his beautiful eyes. The paleness of them, the gray fighting for dominance over blue. His structured, angular face, and the clean-cut jet black of his hair.

And something in those eyes plead, _Help me. Help me, because I don't know how._

Clark moves, as quickly as lightning, to retrieve gauze. With as much carefulness as he can muster, he begins to wrap his best friend's knuckles. "Why would you hurt yourself like this? God, Bruce, I-"

"Stop," comes the reply, sounding infinitely tired.

"...pretending you care..."

"I don't need your pity."

"I don't want it."

Such incredulous words have never reached his ears. Fury blazes up in Kal-El, at himself, at the world. At everything. At Bruce for believing that. At him for not showing it. Bruce takes a step back, and Clark forces himself to calm down.

He can barely gather his words to make a sentence. "Bruce, of course I care about you. You're my best friend. Where would I be- what would I do- without you? I'm not giving you pity. I know that you would never want pity. I'm only unhappy, because you're unhappy."

The Dark Knight laughs then, a short and cruel one. "I'm always unhappy."

God, he wish it weren't true. Clark wishes then, more than anything in the world, that he could make Bruce happy. That he could somehow express, in all his words and power, the infinite reserves of love and respect he has saved away for him.

Nothing comes. His mouth, a dry fountain. But it works into a half-hearted smile. A light. "I care about you. You can't think, for one second ever, that I don't."

At that, immediate pain flashes through Bruce's face. He visibly deflates. And as Clark steps closer, he turns away, and he seems to shut down. Just completely close off, like an automaton powering off, where every light blinks out and movement becomes immobile.

The fire in Batman's eyes that was there a second ago, has now vanished. He looks lifeless. Dead. In pain that's so bad he's numb. A complete, and utter shut-down. Bruce struggles to speak. "No. Not in the way- Please leave, Clark. Kal-El. Please."

Superman pauses, hurt, confused. Bruce? "Bruce-"

"Go."

He stills, and when it becomes clear the meeting is over, Superman leaves. The image of half-finished wrapping on Bruce's right hand imprints itself into his skull.


End file.
